


Teens and Tiaras

by skillzyo



Series: The Main Drag [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mack just needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5715031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skillzyo/pseuds/skillzyo





	Teens and Tiaras

Quinn settles against the hard cushions of her couch, a thin blanket draped over her shoulders and the fourth Harry Potter book in her hands. The dim glow of the lamp on the end-table provides just enough light to read by and only flickers occasionally whenever the lightning flashes outside the window. She is just starting a new chapter when her phone buzzes on the glass coffee table.

She startles and drops the book on her lap before she grabs the phone and checks the new text. Her brow furrows when she sees 'The Mack' appear on the screen, followed by a message asking if she can come over. She glances at the clock hanging on the wall, but before she can ask why Mack would want to come over so late, her phone buzzes with another text.

Please.

Quinn types out a quick response before she sets the phone on the floor and prepares to lose herself in the world of magic once more. She barely gets through the first word on the page before a knock at the front door makes her jump again. She shifts her gaze from the door to the clock then back to the door. The knocking returns, louder this time. Quinn tightens her hold on the edges of her blanket as she gets up and makes her way to the front door. When she opens it, she can't help but stare at the soaked and shivering figure being pelted by rain on her porch.

"I-I know you wanted space, b-but I didn't know where else to go," The Mack says with a sniffle.

A flash of lightning illuminates the yard and spurs Quinn into action. She grabs Mack by the hand and pulls her inside, away from the wind and rain. After she shuts the door, she focuses on the sopping mess standing in a puddle in her foyer. Gone is the cocky young woman who was bold enough to kiss her at the ice cream parlor and in Sugar's pool. In her place is a shivering girl who can't seem to lift her gaze from the wooden floor.

Quinn doesn't question how Mack got to her house so fast or why there's a coppery red stain on Mack's lower lip. Instead, she wraps her blanket around the smaller girl—she had never noticed how small she was before—and leads her to the downstairs bathroom. Once the water is running in the tub, she turns and takes a step toward Mack, who winces when Quinn places a hand against her bruised cheek and runs her thumb over the injury on her lip.

"I got your blanket all wet," she whispers. "Sorry."

"You'll just have to make it up to me," Quinn says before she lowers her hand to the edge of the mentioned blanket and slides it off Mack's shoulders. She tugs the soaked leather jacket off the smaller girl and sets it on the bathroom counter. "I'll be back in a minute," she promises before she slips through the bathroom door.

When she comes back, towel and clothes in hand, the tap is off and Mack is sitting on the edge of the tub with her arms wrapped around her middle. Quinn sets her bundle on top of the toilet before she joins Mack and waits for the other girl to speak.

And waits.

And waits some more before she rests her hand on top of the darker one. Mack finally looks at her and offers the smallest of smiles in thanks, which Quinn returns.

"The water is going to get cold if you wait too long," Quinn says as she stands up. She picks up the blanket from the floor and rolls it into a wet bundle. "Meet me in the living room when you're done."

And then she's gone, leaving Mack with her thoughts and a hot bath.

Mack stares at the door a few seconds more before she peels off the rest of her soaked clothes and slips into the tub. The warm water fills her ears and silences the rest of the world. She focuses on the red ceiling and thinks about how nice Quinn's hand felt on hers. They're much better thoughts than the ones she had been having outside.

Thoughts about her brother. Thoughts about her Ma. She sinks deeper into the water so only her mouth and nose are exposed. She doesn't need them. She closes her eyes and allows the sound of her heartbeat to drown out memories of broken plates and closed fists. She doesn't notice when the water starts to cool, nor does she hear the door open.

"Mack?"

The water sloshes as Mack brings her head above the water. She chuckles when she looks over the rim of the tub and sees Quinn masking her eyes with her hand.

"I wouldn't mind if you looked, y'know," Mack says. She smirks as she rests one arm on the rim and traces circles in the water settled over her stomach. "Actually, I think I might like it if you peeked just a tiny bit," she adds when red seeps into Quinn's cheeks.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright, not perv on you," the blonde huffs. "Obviously you're fine."

"Damn straight I'm fine," Mack agrees. "My ass is the finest one in this room aside from yours," she adds with a wink even though she knows Quinn can't see it through her fingers. She can almost hear the other girl rolling her eyes.

"Will you just hurry up?"

"Why? You miss me already?"

"Okay. I'm leaving before you turn into Puck," Quinn says. She hears water splash over the rim of the tub followed by wet footsteps on the tile. Then Mack's hand is on hers, lowering it from her face. She looks down to find brown eyes searching hers. The playful sparkle that she's grown used to is back where it belongs.

"I am definitely not Puck," she says, and Quinn resists the urge to look any lower than the smaller girl's face. "And I guess since you asked so nice and all, I'll hurry up so we can cuddle on the couch or whatever."

"We're not going to cuddle," Quinn insists, but Mack's only response is a shrug before taking a step back. She breathes a sigh of relief to find that Mack had wrapped herself in a towel while her eyes were covered. Unfortunately, the towel does nothing to hide the girl's toned calves and arms. Worse, Mack catches her lingering gaze. Quinn hoarsely excuses herself and hurries through the door before Mack can start dressing in front of her.

When the girl joins her in the living room, Quinn has to bite back a laugh at the sight of Mack in her clothes. She has a good four inches on the other girl, so the legs of the grey sweats are too long and the white t-shirt loosely hangs off her frame. It ruins the effectiveness of the glare Mack sends her way.

"The 'swimming-in-clothes' look really suits you."

"Shuddup. I'm not that short."

"Living in denial isn't going to make you any taller," Quinn states as Mack sits next to her. "I doubt you're much taller than Rachel."

Mack huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. "I didn't come here to talk about your precious Berry."

"Well you're the one who showed up on my doorstep so obviously you came here for something."

"And I already told you it was because I didn't know where else to go, okay?" she snaps. She refuses to look at the blonde, with her stupid pretty eyes and her stupid pretty hair. Her resolve breaks, however, when Quinn touches her upper arm. She sighs and looks over to find the blonde watching her. "Look, I didn't come here 'cause I wanted to seduce you or anything," she says. "The Skanks haven't been too happy with me since I ditched 'em for The Troubletones so none of them were really an option."

"And how long were you standing outside before you texted me?"

"Huh?"

"Don't play dumb," Quinn says. "You knocked right after I said it was fine to come over. How long were you standing out there?"

"Long enough," she says with a shrug. "I was um… I thought you might tell me no so I didn't really wanna send the text."

"And what were you going to do if I did say no?" Quinn asks with a raised eyebrow. "Sleep out in the rain?"

"Would have been better than going back home," Mack grumbles. Before Quinn can respond, she asks if she can borrow a pillow and a blanket. "If you just let me crash on the couch, I'll be gone before the sun's up."

"Our couches were made for decoration, not comfort," the blonde says as she stands. She offers Mack her hand and, when Mack doesn't pull her back down to the couch, she helps the other girl to her feet. "And my mom wakes up early. I don't want her to call the cops over a stranger sleeping in our living room," she explains as she leads Mack to the foyer and up the stairs.

When they approach her mother's bedroom, she steps a little lighter and motions for Mack to stay quiet, who nods in response, only to stumble over the pant-leg of her sweatpants a moment later. Quinn glares at her and she flashes a sheepish smile that tugs on the torn skin of her lip. Thankfully, they make it to Quinn's bedroom without any more stumbling incidents and the door doesn't creak when the blonde slowly shuts it. Neither of them say a word when they climb onto the bed and slip under the comforters to escape the chill of the air conditioning.

Quinn tries not to stare as she lies on her side and listens to the rain smack against her house, but every time lightning flashes in her window, she catches a glimpse of the split skin of Mack's lip and the bruising on her cheek. She wants to ask, but the quiet in her room is too comfortable to break with words. She reaches out instead and brushes her thumb over the injury like she had done in the bathroom. Mack's hand captures hers, however, and the darker girl scoots over to lessen the distance between their bodies.

"I have a half-brother," Mack whispers as she stares at their conjoined hands. "He's got about four years and a hundred pounds on me. Name's Jimmy 'cause my Ma and his dad did it at a Jimmy John's and my Ma's all about sentimental crap like that." Her thumb slowly starts to brush over the back of Quinn's hand as she says, "Jimmy, he likes to sit on the couch and throw beer cans at the TV when they don't pick the right lottery numbers. Sometimes they're empty, but most of the time he ends up gettin' beer all over the carpet so now our apartment reeks." Mack's brow furrows as she tries to think of how to continue. "I don't know if I'm sayin' this right."

"You're doing fine," Quinn assures her, "but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"You really wanna hear about it?"

There's something about the way Mack asks her that makes Quinn squeeze the other girl's hand as she says, "I do."

"If you're sure," Mack says. When Quinn nods, she continues. "Well, Jimmy and my Ma, they fight over everything, y'know? And Jimmy, he doesn't really control his temper." She takes a breath and smiles when Quinn closes the distance between them. "And I just have a bad habit of gettin' in the way when he tries to take it out on my Ma." Mack's free hand curls into a tight fist. "It's not her fault we don't have money. She tries. She works. He's the one with the couch molding to his ass."

"Is that why…?" Quinn lifts her free hand and brushes her knuckles over Mack's cheek and lip.

"Yeah," Mack nods. "And I don't really like staying there after we fight so I used to go hang out with one of the Skanks, but that's not really one of my options anymore." She flashes Quinn a smile before she says, "So you kinda got stuck with me. Sorry about that."

"Don't be. You wouldn't be here if I didn't want you to stay," Quinn tells her before she leans forward and kisses Mack on the nose. When she pulls back, Mack's eyes are closed. Still, there's something that doesn't quite sit right with Quinn. "If your mom knows what's going on, why is Jimmy still living with you guys?"

"Probably 'cause he's my Ma's favorite." The tiny smile on her face disappears as she opens her eyes. "I mean, parents aren't supposed to choose favorites, but it just feels that way most of the time, y'know? Like he can do no wrong, but everything I do is crap."

Quinn nods. She remembers the way her dad used to look at Franny. She remembers constantly being told she had to be as good as her sister. She remembers catching snippets of conversations between her parents about her size and how Franny never had a weight problem. She knows how it feels to be loved less than an older sibling simply because she couldn't reach the bar that was set. It's not exactly the same situation, but she knows that feeling and she doubts Mack likes dwelling on it any more than she does, so she tries to change the subject.

"So if he was named Jimmy because of Jimmy John's, what did your mom name you?"

Mack shakes her head and says, "I haven't told anyone my name since ninth grade. I'm not gonna start now."

"It can't be that bad," Quinn says, but Mack stays silent. "Come on. I'll tell you my real name if you tell me yours."

"I already know your real name," Mack insists. Even in the dark, she can see the pale eyebrow arch in disbelief. She chuckles and leans her forehead against the blonde's. "It's Quinn. Whoever you were before? She's gone. She helped make Quinn, but she's not you anymore," she says before she pulls back. "And I'm not who I was before I became The Mack so maybe we should just leave those people in the past for now."

"Does that mean you're going to eventually tell me?"

"Sure," Mack says with a shrug, "but only if you do me a favor."

"Depends on the favor."

"Could you maybe let me stay next to you like this for the rest of the night?" she asks in a voice just below a whisper. Quinn responds by slipping her arms around the smaller girl and pulling her closer. Soon, Mack's arm rests over Quinn's side. "I thought you said we weren't gonna cuddle?"

"If you're going to complain, you can always sleep on the couch."

"Definitely not complaining," Mack says. A low hum of pleasure escapes her lips as she tucks her head beneath Quinn's chin and closes her eyes. She listens to the rain tapping against the window and the occasional rumble of thunder for several minutes before she asks, "How come you get to be the big spoon?"

"We're not spooning, Mack," Quinn says in a whisper, "but if it really bothers you that much, you can be the big spoon next time."

Mack's eyes flutter open. "There's gonna be a next time?"

"Not if you don't shut up and go to sleep."

"Oh, right. Sorry," Mack says. She closes her eyes again and tries to match her breathing with Quinn's, but thoughts of a possible 'next time' keep distracting her. It's not a bad distraction, but it does make the concept of sleep hard to grasp.

"Stop. Thinking."

Mack starts to apologize again, but thinks better of it. Instead, she does as she's told and lets the sound of Quinn's heartbeat drown out her thoughts. Several minutes later, when Mack's breathing evens out and her body relaxes, Quinn sighs in relief and allows herself to fall asleep as well.

The next morning, a knock on the bedroom door startles both girls awake and they quickly jerk away from one another. Quinn ends up on the floor, tangled in her comforter. Mack's eyes widen when the door opens and reveals an older blonde woman with sharp facial features that only get tighter when she greets Mack with a thin smile. Mack sits up and opens her mouth to say hello, but she chokes on her own voice.

"You're not my daughter," the woman says while Mack's vocal cords work against her. Thankfully, Quinn manages to free herself from the mess of blankets and sit up. "Ah. There she is," she says when she spots Quinn's shaggy mop of blonde hair on the other side of the mattress.

"Morning, mom," she says with a yawn as she rubs her eyes with her palms.

"Good morning, Quinnie," Judy replies before she looks at Mack and adds, "Quinnie's friend."

Mack tries to respond, but no words come out. Quinn covers for her by introducing her as a friend from glee club. Judy's eyes go from one girl to the other before she shrugs and reminds Quinn she'll be leaving for the airport soon. Quinn nods in response and Judy disappears into the hallway once more, contemplating her daughter's choice in friends.

Once Judy is gone, Mack groans and flops back down. Quinn chuckles and gets to her feet. She tosses the comforter onto the bed before she crosses the room to the vanity and runs her fingers through her hair to tame the wild locks.

"I'm going downstairs to say goodbye to my mom. You're welcome to join me if you think you're capable of forming at least one whole sentence," she says as she checks herself in the mirror. Mack slings her arm over her face and grunts in response. "Or I'll just come get you when she leaves," she offers. "It's up to you."

When Mack doesn't respond, Quinn sighs and heads for the door, only to stop when she hears her bed creak. She looks towards the sound and sees Mack sitting on the edge of her bed, chewing her lower lip.

"I don't usually do the whole 'meet the parents' thing so this is kinda new to me," Mack admits as she twists the hem of her borrowed t-shirt. "I just want her to like me, y'know?"

"Come on," Quinn says as she offers her hand. Mack stares at her for a moment before she sighs and leaves the safety of the mattress. "I guarantee she will like you more if you make the effort to talk to her."

"If you say so," Mack says as she takes Quinn's hand and lets her lead her to the kitchen downstairs, where Judy is digging through the fridge. Mack stops before they can get too far into the room, which makes Quinn jerk to a stop.

"Can I at least change into my own clothes first? I really don't wanna meet your mom for real in your sweatpants."

Quinn nods and tells her how to get to the laundry room. Mack mumbles a quick thanks and leaves to go search for her clothes. When she comes back, much more presentable in her ripped jeans and black tank-top, Quinn and her mother are at the kitchen table, each with a bowl of cereal in front of them. The chair next to Quinn has an empty bowl and a spoon waiting to be used. She slides into the seat and Quinn pushes the box of Cheerios towards her. Grateful for the distraction, Mack accepts and soon the sound of spoons clinking against ceramic bowls is the only noise that fills the kitchen.

Once she's down to her last three Cheerios, Mack drags her spoon through the milk and chases the last of the whole-grain rings around the bowl. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Quinn watching her and feels her cheeks burn. She's being an idiot. Quinn already said her mom would like her if she tried. She takes a deep breath before she stands up and takes Quinn and Judy's empty bowls. She tries not to think about how stupid her split lip must look as she flashes the older blonde a smile. To her surprise, Judy returns it with a smile of her own before she picks up the newspaper. It's a bit more subdued than Mack's, but it's still a smile so she counts it as a win.

After she sets the bowls in the sink and runs water over them, Mack turns around and leans against the counter as she says, "So uh… It's nice to meet you, Ms. Fabray."

"And it's nice to know that you can talk, dear," Judy replies. She lifts her glass of orange juice and tilts it towards Mack before she takes a drink and goes back to reading her newspaper.

"I was just a little nervous, y'know?" Mack rubs the back of her head before a crooked grin appears on her face. "It's not every day that I get to meet the woman who gave Quinn all her good looks."

Quinn rolls her eyes before she grabs the Cheerios box and tries to find something interesting to distract herself with on the back. Her mother, however, laughs and tells Mack she can call her Judy.

"Judy, huh? A pretty name for a pretty lady."

The older woman smiles and lowers her newspaper so she can look at her daughter, who has switched from the back of the Cheerios box to the nutrition panel on the side. Judy leans across the table and places a hand on her forearm. "I like this one, Quinnie. Why didn't you invite her over sooner?"

"Aren't you going to miss your flight if you don't leave soon?"

The older Fabray glances at the clock on the microwave and mutters a curse under her breath. She hurries to her feet, grabs her purse off the counter, and places a quick kiss on Quinn's cheek. After she reminds her where to find the hotel number in case she can't get ahold of her cell, she says a quick goodbye to Mack and hurries down the hall to the front door. Mack waits until she hears the door close before she moves to the table and leans against the back of Quinn's chair.

"So I think your mom kind of digs me."

The blonde smiles and shakes her head before she stands and takes Mack's hand.

"Come on, lady killer. Now that you aren't dripping everywhere, I'll give you a real tour of the house."

While the blonde leads her around the lower level of the house, Mack decides that she likes the way her hand feels in Quinn's. It's much smoother than the sandpaper hands of the men at the rest stops. It fits better, too. She also likes the way Quinn's voice sounds when she tells stories about each place they pass through.

Like the time she caught her older sister making out with her second boyfriend—one their dad wouldn't have approved because of his skin color—in the closet in the middle of the hallway. And how she broke her mom's favorite vase in the study the first time she tried to show her a move from ballet. And the time Finn sang an idiotic song to her parents in the dining room about having his baby.

Mack notices the way Quinn's fingers linger on the wooden table and how her voice tightens around the words as she tells the story. Mack gently squeezes the hand in hers; just enough to remind the blonde she's still there. The corner of Quinn's mouth twitches, but Mack isn't sure if it's because she's fighting off a smile or the emotions that come with the memories. She tugs the blonde away from the table and the dining room.

When Mack insists she's seen enough of the main floor, Quinn leads her to the basement, where she shows off the second kitchen she used during sleepovers with Santana and Brittany. Mack's attention, however, is focused on the cabinet pushed against the wall and the silver objects glittering behind the glass doors. She drops the blonde's hand so she can investigate.

"Quinn," she calls over her shoulder, "what's up with all the headgear? You plan on taking over a bunch of countries or something?"

Quinn stops her story about the first time she caught Santana and Brittany making out on the couch when she hears Mack's question. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees a tiara in the other girl's hands and a scowl mars her features as she crosses the room to the cabinet.

"Put that back," she says before she snatches the tiara from Mack's fingers and returns it to the velvet pillow. After she shuts the glass doors, she turns back to Mack and narrows her eyes. "What the hell were you doing?"

"It's a freakin' tiara, Fabray! I was just lookin' at it!"

"It is not just a tiara," Quinn snaps. "It's… It's a symbol! Of power. Of respect. Of being wanted," she says before she shifts her gaze back to the cabinet. She presses the tip of her index finger against the glass. "The only thing I ever wanted, and I couldn't get it even when I did everything right."

"Quinn…" Mack bites her lip as she tries to figure out what she's supposed to do. Somehow they've switched to something deeper than titles and tiaras. She looks back at the cabinet and studies the sparkling crowns behind the glass doors. Before Quinn can smack her hand away, Mack pulls a tiara off the top of the cabinet. Quinn tries to rip it from her hand again, but Mack holds her back at arm's length.

"This isn't funny, Mack! Give it back before I—"

Quinn cuts herself off when Mack sets the half circle of bedazzled plastic on her head. She raises a hand to touch the crown; to run her fingers along the smooth jewels and jagged edges. It's only cheap plastic, but it feels heavier.

Mack smooths some of the stray locks of blonde hair and adjusts the tiara so it rests perfectly on Quinn's head. Once it is set to her liking, Mack bunches the hem of her tank-top in her hands and studies the carpet as she tries to put her thoughts into words. Soft fingers against her cheek make her look up, however, and she realizes she doesn't need to find the right words when she sees the smile on Quinn's face.

"You make a cute Queen even in your PJ's. Prom was definitely wasted on Rachel Berry."

"How about we don't talk about Rachel?" Quinn suggests before she loops her arms around Mack's head and leans down to kiss her.

Hands grip Quinn's hips and guide her closer to Mack's smaller frame. She runs her tongue along Mack's lower lip, who eagerly allows her to deepen the kiss. Mack's hand slips under her shirt and up her side, but she stops before reaches the fabric of Quinn's bra. She's perfectly content to trail her hand along the skin of Quinn's side. Teeth playfully nip at Mack's lip before Quinn pulls back.

"There's just one thing missing," she whispers. She plucks one of the remaining tiaras off the top of the cabinet and places it on Mack's head. Mack rolls her eyes, but she can't stop the wide grin that spreads across her face.

"You're a goof, Fabray," she says as she leans her forehead against Quinn's shoulder so the blonde can't see the blush blooming on her cheeks.

"And you're a stubborn ass."

"Yeah, but it totally paid off," Mack agrees. She presses a kiss against Quinn's neck and feels the blonde's pulse quicken against her lips.

While Mack trails soft kisses along her skin, Quinn starts to think, but then the tip of Mack's tongue touches the hollow of her neck. She decides thinking is overrated and she should just allow herself to enjoy the moment. And when Mack slips her hand under her shirt again, she most definitely does.


End file.
